Code Geass: The Black Prince
by R334
Summary: Code Geass AU: would have Lelouch become a different person had Cornelia taken him in and spared him exile? One thing is certain: his desire to find justice has certainly not abated... An experimental fic I came up with late at night. Chap 01 uploaded.
1. Chapter 1

**CODE GEASS: THE BLACK PRINCE**

**Written by Renegade334.**

**Disclaimer**: the "Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion" anime, including the manga adaptations, light novels, electronic game, audio dramas, DVD specials and other spin-offs, are the intellectual and material property of Studio Sunrise, Goro Taniguchi, Ichiro Okouchi, CLAMP, Takahiro Kimura, Bandai Visual, Bandai Entertainment, Kadokawa Shoten, Victor Entertainment and Namco Bandai Games. All rights reserved. "Code Geass: The Black Prince" is a purely fictional, fan-made series based on the original story and written for free entertainment purposes only. No money, privilege or profit is made out of its online distribution. All themes, polemics, characters, events and ideas not considered original are credited to the author and not the aforementioned, official parties.

**Changes and other digressions:** you'll see them as you read down. The most significant one might be the fact that Area 11 is a nameless Southeast Asia country, but not Japan. The whole sakuradite conflict has been resolved in other ways, which will be discussed when the time shall be right. In the meantime, patience is paramount. There'll be lots of talking, characterization and whatnot. Action might come later.

**Chapter 01: **_**Tangents**_

2017 Ascension Throne Britannia (ATB);  
Aries Palace, New York, Holy Britannia Empire

Golden eyes blinked from above, the pupils slowly adapting themselves slowly to the gentle sheen of the city lights. The piercing stare resumed its search, relentlessly chasing the shadows away. Night had fallen without warning on the vast capital, wrapping its white and blue outline in a wreath of black speckled with yellow and silver. The eyes glanced downwards, her attention drawn by two figures standing under one of the Imperial Palace's gates.

OoO

Being at the service of the Imperial Family was a good way to increase one's overall standing; but it didn't come without drawbacks. Whenever one would progress further up the social echelons, one would also realize how ingratiating a job it was. Knights and other sentries, despite being allowed within the walls of the illustrious, lavish mansion, amounted to very little but nameless pawns to be used without reserve. At certain times, it meant being yelled at or snubbed by richly-clothed people who wouldn't consider them higher than repulsive gnats to be swiftly squashed. At others, it meant standing in the cold or the heat without any measure against boredom and under threat of great reprimands.

Such was the fate of the two guards keeping an eye on the Rushmore gate, the South entrance to the Aries Palace.

The younger officer tightened his hold on the cup of coffee, trying to warm his fingers with the heat radiating from the recipient. Autumn had taken its final turn towards winter and proclaimed the change quite ruthlessly. For those who were ordered to stay outdoors, any trick to repel the cold was welcome. "Holy Lord, what wouldn't I give to be in one of those frilly offices and happily shuffling paperwork rather than dawdling here," he muttered, his head bowed to keep his neck away from the permeating frost. His brother-in-arms looked at him weirdly.

"Frilly? Obviously you haven't been inside, have you? Those quarters are anything but frilly; rather, they look like some high-class, military headquarters - very spartan, not a penny spent on luxury."

It was the first man's turn to frown. "Prince Schneizel's apartments certainly did have some comfort, though-"

"His apartments, yes, but the Black Prince is all but like Prince Schneizel - they are like two sides of a same coin; night and day," the mustachioed senior shook his head. Young recruits or fresh transfers always had this moment of bewilderment when assigned to the East Wing of the Aries Palace. The place was gorgeous to behold in spring and summer but hid a colder, sharper look if granted closer attention. Those who had had the privilege of going indoors - and they weren't many of them - could certainly see the nature of the mind that had remodeled the mansion to its whims. "And he makes it a point to let everyone know about the antithesis. The Black Prince is an adept of Machiavelli's precepts - he lords with fear and authority, not warmth and great feasts like Schneizel graciously does."

"Sounds like a copy of his own father," the younger guard muttered with a shrug. Royals tended to be all the same, sharing the same vices and over- glorified ambitions. To those far lower down the social pyramid, unburdened with the pomp and obligations of the court, it was hard to connect with people who seemed like remote shadows, individuals roughly shaped, never to be seen in their entirety. Palace soldiers only cared whether the monthly pay would be good and whether their workload would be light enough to relax and slack off when no one was looking. Whether royals had hidden traits mattered little.

"He didn't use to be like that, you know."

"Hmmm? Care to refresh my memory...sir?"

"He's the son of Empress Marianne, as you can recall - but her death changed him forever and... after that..._incident_ at the court with his father the Emperor, I think his personality underwent a very unexpected development."

The cadet finished his cupful of coffee and wiped his mouth with his purple glove. "I remember that - that's when he was disgraced, wasn't he? Some of his siblings had to intercede in his favor..."

"Indeed," the sergeant nodded grimly, "and a nasty business it was. I can sympathize with the Prince, though - to have his mother killed and his father barely bat an eyebrow at the news. He must have been revolted beyond words - enough to freely display his anger at the court. It would have been uglier had not Princess Cornelia stepped forth and asked for forgiveness on his behalf. Since she had been a great admirer of the Empress, it is no wonder she vouched for her half-brother and tried to limit the damage."

"I see. Still, it must have been hard for her, knowing the Imperial Court-"

The sergeant sniffed. "Hard? None of her siblings made her any reproach, unlike her elders and the other nobles. But since she had been in charge of the Aries Palace's security detail that fateful night, she must have felt guilty for what had befallen her brother and sister. So as penance, I believe, she took him in and shielded him from the court. Even though his status had been an inch shy of being revoked by the Emperor himself, he remained in the succession line, but at the lowest echelons."

"It doesn't seem that way nowadays, though," the other observed with a pensive look, still trying to compute the news he had received. It was eerie, almost disconcerting how past and present held very little in common nowadays.

"Heh," the older man snorted, rubbing his hands together. "As I said, he changed. And I must say he showed everyone up, especially his father. Now he's what, third, fourth in line? Now, that's what I call _successful._"

The two shared a good laugh, knowing that they'd need it for the rest of their shift. The other pair of guards for the next shift wouldn't replace them until well into three in the morning. The pair took a few steps away of the porch, in an attempt to spur on the blood flow in their numbed legs. They headed towards a nearby bench but kept an eye on the surroundings as they moved.

"But the queer thing is, while very few officers have the privilege of mounting guard under his windows, even fewer have had the ability to protect his sister, young Princess Nunnally; the Southwest Pavilion is off-limits to everyone except-" he cut off in the middle of his sentence and squinted at something in the distance. The younger guard followed his gaze and spotted what had caught his attention.

Under a nearby arch, slithering between shadows, a silhouette gracefully crept towards the back gardens.

"What? Who's that? Hey! _Who goes there?_"

The two soldiers scrambled forwards just as the cat-like form disappeared behind a marble column, fading into the darkness.

"Sound the alarm! We have an intruder!"

OoO

_"Lelouch," his half-sister had said, tears coalescing at the corner of her eyes, "you must not take this tone with His Highness. Never. It will only bring you more pain and hardships. Promise me you will not do something this foolish ever again. Promise me!" Her long fingers shook the stiff shoulders of her younger sibling, in a way that was more pleading than reproachful. The urgency in the situation was palpable but the two youngsters harbored different feelings: she was frightened out of her mind and alarmed beyond words, whereas he was struggling to contain his pain and outrage. The obloquy Lelouch Vie Britannia had suffered in the throne room still twisted his innards, wickedly demanding bloodshed as retribution. His youth billowed with fury at the disgrace he was forced to bear and incomprehension at the reason of it all. Pitted in a world where logic took darker and more convoluted outlines, it was evident he was desperately fighting a losing battle. It was only thanks to his half-sister's intervention that he had avoided being cast from the country and stripped of his title as Seventeenth Heir to the Throne. However, despite the indisputable solicitude behind her action, her intercession had also dealt additional harm: on top of directly defying the Emperor, he had suffered the ignominy of being excused by a family member. Another wound to his crumbling sense of dignity._

_"But why, Cornelia, why!? Why would I have to show respect to someone who doesn't even care for us? He doesn't deserve it all-" He didn't have a chance to complete his argument as her hand connected sharply with his cheek, stunning him into speechlessness. He stood for a couple seconds with his head turned sideways, before bringing a bewildered stare back to his sister. He never had the will to find new words when he saw the long rivulets of tears trickling down her face._

_They stood in front of each other, silent and solemn as graves. In a corner of the room, a younger Knight Gilford averted his eyes, knowing that a single breath taken too loudly would make things turn for the worse. Cornelia's shoulders sagged with misery and she clutched Lelouch's shoulders with renewed ardor. "Lelouch, I only wish to help you. You're my brother - do _not _ever forget it. And I love you just as I love Nunnally. But you cannot get your happiness back this way - it'll only make matters worse. Don't you see? Nobody here can question our father; he is the Emperor - Law incarnate. Going against him, even if his decisions are insensitive or inhuman, will only reap disaster and slander. You deserve better than that."_

_"But what," the ten-year-old choked, eyes wide in dawning helplessness, "what can I have when all is broken...lost...Nunnally is still between life and death, Mother is gone, Father doesn't care and nobody bothers anymore...even our friends the Ashfords have fallen from grace. What can possibly help me in all of this? Where is my justice, my retribution?" he shivered, a wild glint taking over his purple eyes. For a heart-gripping moment, Cornelia started to panic, fearing that her sibling might lose his wits and do something even more regrettable than opposing the Holy Emperor in person. The skies outside rumbled with thunder, as if the sky himself had sympathized with the youngster's plight._

_"You'll find it, Lelouch," she whispered, drawing his head close to hers. "I'll help you. I'll make you into a prince better and more magnificent than anyone has ever seen. I'll help you stand back and fight. It's the only thing you can do to build a better world. Fight."_

_And with that, the gears of time clicked into place and started turned faster, the machine of fate setting itself towards a new path, a new tangent._

Lelouch sprang to a sitting position, his hands gripping the moist bed sheets. Panting as if his heart threatened to jump out of his throat, his body covered in perspiration, he remained frozen for a moment before he dared look up. Reality gradually reaffirmed its reign on his consciousness, chasing the nightmare's last remnants away. The Black Prince gritted his teeth and swung his legs over the edge, furious with himself. Certain memories were meant to be either forgotten or shelved for the time being. Although he _did _keep memorabilia of the past to remind himself where he was headed, he despised lingering over bygone times or forced to reminisce painful moments..

He ran long, slender hands over his face and rubbed the last traces of agitation from his chiseled features. Nightmares still plagued him from time to time but seldom were they about his tumultuous past. He had done everything to put those hardships behind and look forward to the future, but even then, chimaeras from old times still chased after him, feeding upon his darkest memories like carrion fodder.

It was then, as he his mind fully connected with reality, that he noticed the distant ringing of the emergency alarms. Cursing aloud at the nuisance, he snatched a housecoat from his wardrobe and made for his vast office, where he knew he could find, at any hour, a secretary or some low-ranking officer keeping an eye on both the news networks and the secure transmission telephones. He threw the doors open and glared imperiously at the startled occupants.

"What is this racket?" yelled over the din. Two red-clad officers froze in their tracks and nervously looked at the aggravated Prince. They immediately kneeled in respect. "Report. Immediately."

"Your Highness, the guards at the Rushmore Gate have spotted a suspicious person sneaking around the gardens. We are currently trying to apprehend the said individual," the highest-ranked of the two intoned as humbly as possible.

"An intruder?" Lelouch's eyebrows migrated upwards in mild surprise. He rarely showed any emotion especially when in a fey mood, but the slightest narrowing of his eyes readily gave a stark snapshot of his mindset. And those who knew him very well could easily tell that his mood wasn't going to improve at all. "If that is so, then catch him as you are supposed to do. And stop this alarm at once." It wasn't so much his own sleep he wanted to defend, but rather that of his younger, handicapped sister. Whenever she heard that wailing sound, she was automatically transported back in time, to the tragedy that had occurred seven years ago. At all costs, Lelouch wanted to prevent the resurgence of a long-buried trauma. The doctors had told him her eyes had not suffered from any injury but her blindness was psychological in nature - a convoluted way to defend the psyche against additional pain. Stunting the efforts to comfort her damaged soul would be disastrous.

That said, he turned on his heels and left the pair of embarrassed officers behind.

And with that, he returned to the warm comfort of his bed, never noticing the human silhouette standing on the balcony, observing him with great interest.

OoO

Lelouch's second waking was far more peaceful than the previous one. Like a clock crafted by expert hands, he had learnt to wake up on his own at a very precise hour, without the help of an electronic contraption. Still groggy over his sleep's untimely interruption, he started his morning ablutions and entered one of the many corridors leading to the dining room. It took him very little time to regain memory of what had taken place a few hours ago and his already dark mood didn't find itself any brighter. He could only hope something would come and cheer him up, lest a random staff member become a martyr in the following minutes.

His breakfast was frugal; he never needed the ridiculous, copious dishes the other princes loved to ingest in the morning. Years spent fighting in dangerous places had told him how to eat properly and modestly, almost ascetically. Fruits and freshly baked bread awaited his good will, complete with either tea or orange juice. That was how he kept himself from developing a larger girth, like his elder brothers. As always, a dozen, carefully selected newspapers waited on the table.

_Japan continues to stall the ultimatum issued by both Britannia and the Chinese Federation_, the main headline proclaimed. The small Asian nation had suddenly grown in importance in the past few years, thanks to the discovery of sakuradite ore on Mount Fuji's snow-capped slopes. As it was a paramount material in superconductivity research and development, most superpowers had promptly requested an audience with the Japanese prime minister, accompanied by countless offers of industrial partnership. So far, Japan had declined all bids, refused to take sides and opted to ride the wave of its newfound prosperity instead. This attitude, predictably, had produced an unhealthy number of disgruntled diplomats overseas. The mineral's price kept rising steadily and so far, no one had managed to win contracts with the Japanese government. _Prime Minister Kururugi denied any undergoing negotiation in an official broadcast on the Mainichi network_, the article continued, the editor allowing himself free reign to douse the Japanese politicians with literary flames.

The entire affair reeked of a budding crisis, Lelouch thought. It wouldn't be long before someone started to rattle his sword in front of the main island and demanded a final answer for all to hear. The Black Prince made a mental note to take a better look at the case later on. Maybe, he pondered, it was another opportunity he could use. The newest generation of Knightmare Frames needed sakuradite more than ever and Britannian industry would certainly appreciate having the Black Prince step in and broker a custom-made deal. The only problem, he knew, was that Japanese politics were far more complex than they were meant to look like. There were powers behind powers, puppets and puppeteers. And the Black Prince wasn't exactly a Britannian label of success.

A soft knock on the door jarred him from his half-reverie. His curly-haired secretary peeked in and entered the second Lelouch ushered him in.

"Good morning, Your Highness. I trust you managed to sleep well with all the noise this night?"

"Don't even remind me, Carlisle," Lelouch grumbled. "I thought they were readying for a carnival with the way they were running all over the place. While I appreciate their concern over my safety, I still need my sleep."

"Undoubtedly, Your Highness," the high-cheeked young man bowed. "I'll see whether there are arrangements that could be made to prevent such trouble in the future."

"Look into it with the First Steward, then," Lelouch waved him off. "If he can't fix this then I'll see to it that someone with better credentials takes over the assignment."

"I'll...transmit the message, Your Highness," Carlisle uneasily stuttered. The Black Prince made sure his secretary was out of the room before letting out a long, tired sigh. He had asked for a battle-hardened veteran to fill in as assistant and jack-of-all-trades, but only bumbling recruits had crowded the recruitment room. He had spent hours reading profile after profile, trying to find whoever was more fit to take up the job. Carlisle Wellington, son of a faraway count, had been his final choice - one Lelouch had nearly regretted making the second the lad had learnt the news. He had promptly broken into tears, much to the Prince's annoyance and consternation. Thankfully, over time, a myriad of older officers had joined the ranks to provide better advice and handle more delicate tasks. But Carlisle was not someone Lelouch had opted to get rid of without at least putting up a good fight; the boy, despite his bumbling nature, still showed some potential as a quick, efficient manager. But he lacked self-confidence and was too squeamish at moments to survive the ruthless world of politics without some tutoring.

It would have been simpler had either Gilford or Darlton offered to help him but they were his half-sister's Knights and no one else's. It would have been a shameful crime to shanghai them from their Lady's service.

At any rate, Cornelia was still abroad and out of reach. She had still business to fulfill in the newly annexed Area 18 and kept herself busy by flattening rebel positions with her usual vigor. He had offered her his assistance but as always, she had advised him to keep his strength for himself. While someone else would have been offended at the strangely-worded rebuke, Lelouch had silently complied, catching the hidden message behind. He had other, greater concerns to attend to and she could effortlessly take care of herself. Before she had climbed in the armored plane, she had nevertheless gratified him with a look full of pride, of relief at seeing him faring so well. It was a memory that occupied a privileged place in his nearly inaccessible heart.

It was evident that Cornelia would never replace his mother, but it didn't prevent her from holding a special part in his heart - a slot that could never be filled by anyone else. She had taken unfathomable risks by tutoring him in what was a deadly game of power and scheming. Knowing how much she admired her father and how hard it was to actually choose her brother over her sire, his admiration for her resolve grew tenfold with every passing day. Not that he hadn't expected it from her; she had always been fiercely protective of her brothers and sisters and looked out for threats to the perpetual happiness that was the protected life inside the Palace. And she wouldn't have let him become a cursed outcast if she could have helped it.

Lelouch glanced at the framed picture on the nightstand, one of the few images he kept to remember the lost halcyon days of bliss. All family members stood therein, beaming fondly at the imperial children gathered at their feet. In the very center, Marianne Lamperouge gifted the photographer with her trademark soft smile, a trait that was, alone, said to have conquered the Emperor - putting aside her legendary bravado and exceptional, flamboyant piloting skills, of course. It was for that reason that she had been named 'Empress' and not 'Imperial Wife' like the other consorts - a major difference that had earned her the wrath of the other 107 ladies of the household. How things had changed, he reflected. Kindness had been replaced by hypocrisy and egotism, blood bonds ruined beyond repair. Happiness swapped with misery and opprobrium. Trust with resentment. Adoration with hatred.

He gestured at the household's retainer to take the dishes and folded the newspapers himself, having engraved in his memory the noteworthy developments in actuality. The world was once again ablaze, as the scales of power moved on their own an umpteenth time. It seemed strange how conflicts quickly succeeded each other, as if the vacuum of violence called for more vacuum. To a philosophical eye, the endless string of battles and skirmishes seemed like a trail of dominos forever falling, one piece dropping the other in an endless fall. It was probably high time for him to return to the Army and re-hone his skills, he noted. He had loved taking part in some of Britannia's overseas expeditions and he often surprised himself at regretting the battlefields. They always offered intellectual challenges and, like a bee attracted by honey, Lelouch had predictably felt drawn to the complex world of strategy and tactics. Not to mention that piloting Knightmare Frames offered him a way to celebrate his deceased mother, as she had been a famous precursor in KF R&D.

But like every journey beginning with a simple step, learning the basics had not gone smoothly without suffering from various setbacks and difficulties.

_"Why move the command posts last? What good is a king on a chessboard, if he doesn't move with the other pieces?" Lelouch sighed, about fed up with military tactics and strategies. "That certainly doesn't make sense - the commanders have to be on the frontlines to get a better understanding of the situation. How else can they truly decide what step to make?"_

_Cornelia closed her eyes, summoning her patience to answer the young cadet's objection to a long-established rule. Lelouch, ever since the assassination, had shown a more rebellious side of his personality, ever questioning the country's traditional pillars of thought. While it was good in that it made for more in-depth lessons and a greater comprehension of the lessons at hand, Lelouch's vehemence and systematic refusal to do things by the letter were wearing her thin. "It's practical in nature - the mobile command posts will be the first targeted by the enemy and their survival only relies on either stealth or good defenses. Moving the entire defense network takes time and coordinator, just as in chess, Lelouch."_

_Making analogies with chess and other games seemed to take her points across more efficiently than simply reading aloud from the Army's instruction manuals. She could already foresee her younger brother butting heads with superiors and causing scandals throughout the chain of command. No matter how, she needed to tame him as quickly as possible. But whenever Lelouch put his entire mind into something, it was hard to build a good counterbalance._

_"Moreover, current technology and simulations posit that long-range strikes are the most efficient way of disrupting enemy maneuvers before a direct confrontation. As such, the centers of decision need to be moved as far from enemy reach as possible."_

_"I get it," Lelouch conceded, knowing it was no use dwelling on it overmuch. Cornelia was already trying to make things much easier and he didn't want to give her hard time. After all, she still had to tend to her duties and he couldn't hold her back much longer. She had meetings to attend, troops to inspect and exercises to conduct. "But I still find it impractical - what about the troops' morale? Surely, talking to them over the radio is not enough to raise their spirits and bolster them into a fighting frenzy..."_

_"You would be surprised," Cornelia smiled. Gilford, a few meters behind her, hid a small smile at what one could easily guess as fond memories. "Man's heart moves in shrewd ways; you just need to know the paths to it."_

_"Shrewd ways, eh?" Lelouch said with a truly curious look. "Any tips you can give me?"_

_Cornelia's laugh at his badly concealed enthusiasm rang through the room._

Control over subjects: a mind-boggling topic.

Schneizel earned adoration from his followers thanks to his good-willed manners but his harshest critics didn't waste any time disparaging his easygoing attitude, branding him weak and too lax to rightfully claim a throne erected upon a mountain of bones and blood. To Lelouch, it was all too apparent that his older half-sibling was simply busy enjoying the luster of his own youth while he still could. Things might change in a few years, though, as sacrifices would have to be made. Lelouch's childhood and teenage years, however, were already long gone. There was no time to dillydally and frolic around like a dog in heat, for he had a future to plan and protect. It was then, as he imagined the paths he'd take, that he decided to take Machiavelli's principles to heart, to rule over his subjects through fear rather than respect. But like any _modus vivendi_, the road to success was fraught with thorns and chasms.

It took Lelouch Vie Britannia seven long, painful years of arduous work and intensive studies under his half-sister's wing to finally regain his status and rise even higher. Nobles of the highest extraction had written him off a long time ago, their opportunistic and falsely subservient minds already seeking other objects of attention and leeching. When he had come back to the fore as a bright promising leader in the making, those who had turned their backs on him had suddenly hesitated, causing discomfort throughout the palace. The Emperor's attitude towards his children had never changed - his belligerent notions of meritocracy, however, had allowed Lelouch to erase the blackboard concerning his past deeds, but nobody had forgotten about the morning after Marianne's death and the scene in the Throne Room. Nevertheless, his exploits in Area 17 as a Special Forces Commander had forced the aristocrats to humbly acknowledge his growing valor. Those that had tried to ignore him paid for it. And dearly.

Fear over love.

It was against what Cornelia had taught him but, as she had conveniently added, whenever it touched matters of the court, there were times where the equation could be reversed, but only according to several rules. Till now, he had always abided by them, as a way to repay his elder half-sister for her generosity. In seven years, the youngster that had so far lived a normal life had grown withdrawn, cold and powerful in his own way. Piercing purple eyes as frosty as a sword's blade had stared down many opponents and even some of his older relatives, including overconfident Imperial Wives. His flourishing genius found its paradise in military affairs - as Cornelia had guessed right six years earlier. When she had seen that his lust for justice could neither be fulfilled nor tamed or replaced, she had opted to send him to the Army, with the hopes that the enforced discipline could help him gain more self-control and patience. His debut as an Imperial Cadet was shaky but things had straightened out in the long run.

It all gave birth to a different lifestyle - one that could nevertheless have driven others to madness. The original loneliness and the infamy had been terrible to cope with, and few had deigned to offer words of comfort. Only those who wished to keep Empress Marianne's memory alive had bothered to come and serve the bereaved children as generously as possible. Cornelia had contributed the most to fix the sudden dereliction of Aries Palace: she frequently brought friends and fellow knights with her, in hope that Lelouch would find something to focus on. Thankfully, even the most miserable children showed admirable resilience. Lelouch's misery had gratefully not lasted long and soon enough, he had started to come back to his senses and recover. Other relatives such as Clovis and Euphemia had frequently dropped by, returning some of the lost happiness to the empty household.

Prince Lelouch, the Fallen Heir as some had pegged him, had quickly gotten over his depression and willingly accepted Cornelia's offer to tutor him in matters of the state. It was only after a few years spent serving in the Army that she had allowed him to meet other nobles and reinsert himself in the Palace's complicated activities. His reappearance, much discussed and scoffed at, had only elicited words of opprobrium at first. But when the brooding teenager had started accomplishing exploits in Southeast Asia and Africa, opinions were forced to shift ever so slightly in his favor.

The true hour of return had tolled when he had taken charge of Baltimore and Detroit's failing finances. While there was much opposition to his interference at first, his unconventional way of spurring investment and income had caught the interest of a few field specialists. Initial disapproval turned to meek curiosity then begrudging admiration. In a matter of months, both cities had doubled their wealth and started challenging the other metropolises in terms of annual revenues.

It had taken the court only too long to realize that beneath the once foolish youngster, hid a mind of fantastic complexity and power. By the time the reinstated Black Prince had started moving his carefully-erected pieces on his imaginary chessboard, the tides of fortune were slowly flowing back. Much speculation surrounded his persona; most described him as a ruthless, pragmatist whose determination could only be equaled by his genius. Legends and hearsays wove themselves around his every action and, elicited by a hint of worry and indecision, the court had gradually decided to consider him a rising factor for the succession battle. And _that _was enough to secure his return to the political scene.

The second they had formally acknowledged his return was his moment of consecration, the culmination of seven years of great struggles and deep misery. The Dark Hours were finally gone but nothing bright had replaced them either. Justice, or so Lelouch believed, had still not been served.

His revenge had yet to take place.

And somehow, during his most cynical moments, he could hear, in a corner of his mind, the sound of an old, rickety clock ticking hours down.

_Soon_, he'd then tell himself.

_Soon._

OoO

Carlisle had not yet returned from his assignment, much to Lelouch's disappointment. The young lad had to run in every direction just to do his Lord's bidding, with a ridiculous care to do things by the book with impeccable care and form. When asked why he ran his secretary through such a cruel wringer, the Prince usually replied, 'he lacks some muscle and endurance. Some training will do him some good."

In a way, it reminded him of his own, erstwhile relationship with Cornelia - that of a mentor and its student. What Carlisle lacked was ruggedness and reality; the first time they had met, the young recruit had been too neatly groomed, too jumpy, too attached to perfection and too eager to provide information right out of the military academy's manuals. Ever since, Lelouch had made it a point to destroy that infuriating, clean-cut personality of his and shape it into a more realistic, dirty-handed figure.

_I guess I'll cut him some slack_, Lelouch thought. _Next week will be even more hectic for him._

He used the service bell to summon a servant and called for the current head of security.

"What news of the intruder," he asked briskly, his mind roiling with possibilities. Like a famous fictional detective invented a century ago, he loved making deductions and solving mysteries his own way. "I trust he has been caught, detained and dealt with?"

The kneeling guard gulped and gathered his strength to finish his report.

"He hasn't," Lelouch said for him. He didn't even bother punishing the man; it wasn't because he somehow knew it wasn't the poor soul's fault or because it was utterly pointless, but rather that he had already turned towards other possibilities. _An intruder in my grounds. The question is: what was he or she doing here? This sector is the most guarded of all and no infiltrator would have been stupid or brazen enough to take the hardest road to inside the Palace. In other words, I was the objective._

He dismissed the heavily sweating guard and glared at his teacup. It wasn't hard to actually guess why someone would try to sneak in; even though his subjects feared him to an extent, he _was _genuinely dangerous to the topmost strata of society. The succession line was complicated in a twisted way; not only did the royal candidates have to be pure-blooded to ascend to the throne but they also had to be older than the rest. While the sex didn't matter, the third factor was even harder to fill in: power and fame. Handicapped by both birthright and age, he had to make up by gaining as much authority as possible. Thanks to the Area 17 campaign, he had managed to rise high enough to challenge Prince Schneizel, but certainly not enough to be on par with the Firstborn Heir, Odysseus. It was nevertheless enough to give a whip-like message to the court: _do not, ever, look down on me again. I'm the one holding right of life and death over you now._

_I'm the one wielding power and the right to judge, now._

_Beware._

Power was indeed a tasty fruit to be nibbled on and not devoured with voracity. Its flavor was enthralling, addictive, but it quickly lost its sweetness when the price paid was too bitter. In Lelouch's case, the fee came with a broken childhood and a mountain of slander and mocking whispers sent his way. Gaining authority in the Palace was as safe and easy as running the marathon through a minefield. Like a double-edged blade, power was prompt to hurt its owner when wielded incorrectly. A true sword of Damocles in its own right.

The warnings Cornelia had issued him were great in wisdom and patience. And sure enough, they proved useful the moment he made his comeback on a scene he thought to have vacated forever. But the risks didn't stop there. The world constantly changed and thriving in it implied making concessions or always taking the initiative. Lelouch had perfected his mastery in being proactive but his early years nearly cost him dear. At one particular moment, it had nary cost him his life.

_The Knightmare Frame screeched to a stop as plumes of dust exploded all around him. His aides had vehemently opposed the idea of having a Britannian Prince acting as a first-line strike force but Lelouch's own determination had outlasted their disapproval. He had always stuck to the belief that a king was to lead the pawns lest nothing move at all. This school of thought certainly brought violent protests from even the most seasoned tacticians. However, the stakes were high enough to justify some of the risks he was currently taking._

_Should he succeed, he'd be hailed a hero. Should he fail, everyone would be quick to bury him as a discreet footnote to history._

_It was hard to miss the black-colored, spindly RPI-17 Galahad zigzagging on the battlefield, daring the enemy lines to lay a finger on it. Everybody knew that the sixth-generation machine was superior to all other models currently fielded but the idea of killing such a prestigious unit won over the Cambodian troops' indecision. Heavy fire started to rain around the Galahad, forcing its pilot to find refuge behind a rocky hillside. A series of smoke grenades erupted from the backpack, blanketing the nearby rice fields with a thick, white haze. Lelouch used the cover to creep forwards, keeping himself well away from the enemy's line of sight. He took the opportunity to run uphill and fire upon the heaviest targets he could see. As soon as the brief moment of surprise was gone, replaced by fury at being toyed with, the shelling resumed and forced the young Prince to follow a random trajectory rather than making a beeline for the enemy stronghold._

_As soon as he had confirmed that all cannons were aimed at him and furiously trying to gun him down, he pushed a small button on his heads-up display. The electronic box promptly sent a high-pitched signal through the atmosphere. And while the coded message back was sent back to the mission coordinator, he charged towards the Cambodians, firing all the way up. Tracers surrounded his frame, arcing through the air in deadly waltzes and seeking their goal with ruthless determination. The Galahad suddenly stumbled as an artillery round detonated a few meters in front of its left foot. The Knightmare Frame teetered dangerously, much to its pilot's alarm, then fell forwards. It was only by pure chance that he managed to bring a knee up to avert his fall. But the damage had been done - the sixth-generation machine was now immobile, a sitting duck for the Cambodian gunners waiting in the nearby trenches. Throughout his headset, a fifteen year-old Lelouch could almost hear a cheer rise from his enemies' positions._

_He gritted his teeth, furious against his predicament and enraged at his own helplessness. Nunnally's face flashed in his mind, as she silently resigned himself to a doom devoid of glory. And even as he raised his head to look at his opponents straight in the eye, his eyes retained a look of pure defiance. _

_It was then that the first Cambodian tank from the back lines disappeared in a torrent of fire. And soon, more followed the same fate, each vanishing in spheres of smoke and smoldering metal._

_Lelouch's shoulders sagged as he realized that his plan had, in the long run, worked successfully. Using himself as decoy for a discreet pincer maneuver was a masterpiece of strategy but a nightmare for the generals back at headquarters. His boldness was not universally appreciated but all knew that his plans were most foolproof and no sacrifice conceded was without greater compensation. Knowing that his role was over, he carefully brought the Galahad back on its feet and prudently retreated from the chaotic battlefield. It was time to stand down and watch the already established outcome._

_Five minutes later, the battle was over and the landscape littered with smoking wrecks. The Galahad stopped to a kneeling position, just as a familiar, horned Gloucester pulled to his side, its jousting lance covered in soot and lube oil from felled vehicles._

_"I can't believe how reckless you were, Lelouch! This was not bravery but pure madness!" Cornelia shouted at him over the radio. She was definitely seething with disappointment and shock, but a hint of elation at seeing him safe and sound could be felt between her words. "You could have died a dozen times with those last moves!"_

_"I should remark that thanks to my recklessness, we have won, sister. My strategy _did _prevail," the younger soldier pointed out, feeling the need to defend himself. They might have different philosophies on how to wage wars but both prized efficiency and intelligence first and foremost. "There is no way one can win without taking some risks to make the success worthwhile."_

_"There is _no _meaning in victory if you are no longer there to celebrate it!" she kept on berating him, her knuckles white with consternation. No Imperial Child below a certain age and level of expertise would have been allowed to consort with death so daringly, even if he was nothing but a half-forgotten outcast, a disgraced royal spawn. But that hardly mattered now. Lelouch had not lost any of his impetuosity and determination to win battles on his own terms; notions such as death or maiming seemed too remote to him for her taste. It was almost as if it was okay for him to die, as he had very little left back home. He was not suicidal but his temerity was so great it blurred the lines between irresponsibility and dedication. It was her fault, she realized. She thought providing a more idealistic account of fighting could return him to the norms but it appeared as if she had overdone her impression on him. It was time she rectified the problem and started teaching him some restraint._

_"I admit defeat, sister," the young caporal conceded. "You're right. No meaning whatsoever."_

_Cornelia didn't know by then that her sibling had already committed the lesson to memory, his cold logic prevailing over his fearless drive. Had she known that right then, she would have spared him the next week's worth of lectures on moderation and wisdom._

"Your Highness," a young maid quietly announced from the doorway, interrupting his flashback. "His Highness Prince Clovis had requested an audience with you."

"Let him in, then, miss," Lelouch answered, his forehead now creased. Clovis was one of his twenty-odd half-brothers as well as one of those he liked less, or so he claimed. Despite what he usually told his entourage, the Black Prince entertained a dual relationship with his older relative, a mix of friendliness and rivalry. A more informed soul like Euphemia or Cornelia could have confirmed that, despite appearances, there were actually no bad feelings between the two of them. They just constantly competed with each other in games such as chess or other intellectual contests. They had never come to blows, merely a rougher version of brotherly ribbing. To make things even clearer about their relationship, close family friends were quick to point out that Clovis was one of those that had never ostracized Lelouch after Marianne's death, always willing to paying him a visit to keep his spirits high.

It wasn't long before the doors opened anew, letting a young man bedecked in royal blue step in.

"Hello, Clovis, are you here to lose another match?" Lelouch smirked, enjoying the flash of irritation in his brother's eyes. Although timid, the older prince had a major weakness: a deep sense of narcissism. Clovis stuck his nose in a sign of defiance. "For your information, I'm not here to play, Lelouch. The alarms have kept me up for the better part of the night thanks to your guards' excessive amount of zeal."

"I cannot replace lost sleep, dear brother, but I can offer excuses if that is what you want. However, the one giving them should not be me," Lelouch said off-handedly. "But rather the one who triggered the alarms."

"An intruder?" Clovis' eyebrows tufted higher on his forehead. "In Aries Palace? Nobody has tried that-"

"For seven years, if that is what you mean to say," Lelouch completed with a sharp edge to his tone. Clovis' half- opened mouth shut with an audible _click_. Everyone save the almighty Emperor himself knew better than bring up that topic. All knew the rage and hatred the Black Prince could muster on a bad day and few were those who would feel brave enough to meet it head-on. "But the culprit has not been apprehended, which is why the guard scoured the entire propriety. Since all of our lives are at stake," he added with a barely detectable ounce of irony, "consider it a free service sent your way."

"More like a nuisance, but I'd still thank you for your concern," Clovis begrudgingly returned. "What about Nunnally?"

"She slept through the entire thing as if nothing had happened. The staff has proved its competence too many times already for me to worry about it today. I saw her this morning and she hadn't even noticed there had been a security breach until one of the servants informed her of it. She was more concerned about my safety than hers, if you can believe it," Lelouch muttered, his coldness melting snow beneath the sun. Even Clovis lost, for a single second, his own animosity. Both were particularly protective of their physically impaired sibling.

"I'll visit her this afternoon if it doesn't bother her," the long-haired Prince sighed. "As for you, I suggest you do not do anything that'd put you in harm's way - at times you do things that make me think you actually _wish _to be attacked."

"Such concern honors you," Lelouch said with a smile that however didn't speak of gentleness. "But I know how to look after myself."

"I'll take my leave, then," Clovis sighed with aggravated resignation.

Clovis bowed slightly and walked out, his cape trailing beside him. As soon as the door clicked shut, Lelouch's smile collapsed into a mask of annoyance. Clovis was one of those he had written off his list of people to investigate shortly after Marianne's assassination. Although obnoxious and excessively prideful, he had a good soul, like a good half of the other Imperial Children. No matter how hard Lelouch thought about it, Clovis definitely lacked a motive to kill the Empress. His good relationship with her small clan had convinced Lelouch, in the simplest manner possible, that his older half-brother could not be the one he had been looking for, for seven long years. Other names, like Cornelia's or Euphemia's, had already been crossed out, but the subtraction didn't decrease the list of possible masterminds by much.

Lelouch's education as a Royal Prince had been axed on three priorities: first, he was to learn how to reign as a true heir, second, he was to regain his lost status with his own strength and third, it was to better know those who might have been his mother's murderers. Playing games of influence with the most dangerous members of the Palace's community had brought much information to his hungry, ever- gauging mind.

Cursing under his breath, Lelouch checked his watch and scowled at the reading. He was going to be late for his monthly inspection of the Ashford Armories.

He walked to a nearby wardrobe and retrieved a long, tweed overcoat, which he fastened around his slender body. He rang the bell next to the table and requested his cape. Days such as these were hectic, often with very little time left for welcome distractions. The rituals he performed on a daily basis asked for great endurance but it was a price he was willing to pay. He called for his military _aide de camp_ and immediately made for the doors, his mind already elsewhere.

He didn't notice the pair of golden eyes examining him from behind a tapestry, following every step of his with renewed interest.

OoO

The Ashford Armories had been brutally shut seven years ago when the Foundation had gone bankrupt. Their champion, Marianne the Flash, had died along with the financial and administrative support she had provided, and much of the shares had been dilapidated by the proverbial rats fleeing the sinking ship. The hardware and ground properties had been seized and sold in other to repay the contracted debts. In a matter of weeks, nobody with enough wealth to buy stocks on the market wanted to be associated with the once flourishing name of Ashford. It had taken Lelouch much thinking and money to resurrect the disgraced company from its ashes. Reuben Ashford, the former CEO, was still living in exile in Japan, but had allowed the Black Prince to try the impossible. Thankfully, rebuilding the organization from scratch had been easier than everyone had previously thought. Cornelia herself had helped attract investors and the booming Knightmare Frame industry had allotted the revived Armories with some trust. The Black Prince's name made for even better incentives to pour money in the growing business.

Three years later, the industry had return to a full-fledged state and the crest of the Ashford Clan once again gloriously peered out at the world, marking Lelouch's first significant victory as an actor on the private, financial scene. The clan patriarch had literally cried tears of joy when the first millions of revenues flowed in. Even though the Emperor's word couldn't be rescinded without much fighting and concessions, the genial old man had resigned himself to look at his own growing fortune from afar. Lelouch nevertheless made sure to make the money available even overseas. From what he had heard, the once famous Ashford Parties were now becoming popular in Tokyo.

"The Mordred's torso is still under revision, Your Highness," the head engineer announced, more concerned than contrite. Even though he showed mercy and generosity towards those who helped and trusted him unconditionally, the Black Prince's reputation still made many shiver in fear and morbid expectation. "The new Core was finished last week and we chose to install it rather than the older version."

"Then why are you apologizing?" Lelouch snapped. "If it means better performances, then get it done as I expect it to be."

He looked upwards and watched as the black and red frame was delicately lowered to the ground, its half-completed chest unit still wrapped in wires and electronic boxes. Technicians ran abuzz around the prototype, bringing tools and equipment for the next step of assembly. A fitting name, Lelouch decided after a casual overlook of the incomplete machine. Mordred was, according to the legends of old, the illegitimate son of the legendary King Arthur as well as his final enemy. He would eventually bring destruction to the entire kingdom, after suffering from the ignominy of his twisted childhood. Somehow it seemed to Lelouch as if a voice of the past had stirred from its sleep and sent painful echoes through his heart.

He turned to the colonel standing a few steps behind and spoke up, "I need you to meet the other engineers and schedule a possible date for the field testing. I want to see whether all of this has finally borne fruit. Have it settled at a convenient moment - it must not interfere with my other meetings in any sort. It must also make some room for any other, unexpected happenings."

"Yes, Your Highness," the aide almost mechanically replied, before snapping his heels and turning around to execute his orders. The Black Prince followed his subordinates' movements with dispassionate eyes, not even impressed with how instantly the command had been obeyed. Things like these had become an immutable part of his life.

"Fancy meeting you here, Your Highness," a melodious voice cheerfully sang from behind. Lelouch raised an eyebrow, easily recognizing its owner.

"Professor Chawla - how delightful to meet you here."

Tradition and etiquette commanded that _she _be the one to give a curtsey but as always, Lelouch transgressed the rules and kissed her hand instead. Shows of such gallantry were only genuine when expressed to those he held close to his heart - and Rakshata Chawla was, against many assumptions, one of them. Seven years ago, Lelouch had sought her out to take a look at Nunnally's body and try to find a better therapy. While his beloved younger sister had still not regained the use of her legs, she no longer felt any discomfort in her body's lower parts. Lelouch, eternally grateful for her services, had then opted to repay her by reinstated her as Ashford Armories' head engineer. She had then risen through the ranks like a rocket on its way to the Moon, piling promotions with no end in sight. Another thing he liked in her was her sarcastic way to gaze at the world. Their respective attitudes easily connected and social barriers soon crumbled to allow a more relaxed relationship. No longer between prince and half-aristocrat but from genius to genius.

"Ever the charmer. How many girls have you smitten with that smile of yours?"

"I don't count the bodies anymore," Lelouch joked. "But my love life is, I assure you, very boring."

"But I thought you said the Palace was an interesting place in terms of human natures," the Indian-born scientist asked with mock disappointment. He had offered her the title of Countess for Exceptional Services Given to the Country but, to his surprise, she had vehemently turned down the offer. Somehow she bore a strong distaste for the strange creatures scuttling around the Imperial Throne like frenzied bugs and she was unable to bear that ilk's presence and company.

"Yes, but the gems you find there are beautiful in a deceitful way, Professor. I'm not interested in those, no matter how beautiful the exterior."

Rakshata nodded, fully agreeing with the prince. A bystander would have gawked in befuddlement _and_ outrage at the familiarity she entertained with the Black Prince and the casualness with which they spoke but neither of them truly made anything serious of it. Admonishing the Ice Lord was, according to most nobles, as safe, as drinking liquid sakuradite. "That's very interesting, but I imagine you aren't only here to take a look at your newest steed?" she gestured with her cigarette holder at the incomplete Mordred below. She was one of the very few persons he had allowed to smoke in his presence without asking for permission first. Helping distressed princes made for nice, belated privileges.

"I'd just like to ask you to see Nunnally one of these days. Not only would she be delighted to meet you again but I'd also want to see whether her health hasn't suffered from the recent temperature drop."

Rakshata nodded, her demeanor now much more sober. Nunnally being the Black Prince's most treasured possession was no one's secret and she knew all too well the devotion both siblings shared for each other. Whenever she had come for cybernetic therapy, the young royal would be there to support his younger sister and bring her comfort. A touching picture it was, for those who could tolerate shows of affection and weakness at the Palace. "I'll come as soon as my agenda allows me. It's true that such bad weather can only have bad effects on her, so I'll try to make haste as much as possible."

"You have my gratitude," he murmured gravely.

"I can't refuse you that, you know," Rakshata reminded him. "You're the one who allowed me to implement my theories of biotechnology on Knightmare Frame research and development. It'd have taken me years to return to anyone's graces and you alone offered the chance to prove myself. Had it not been for you, I wouldn't be where I stand now."

"I know," Lelouch nodded.

"And besides, it allows me to rub it in that dork Lloyd Asplund's face - and those are moments that are so priceless I could die on the spot, in utter bliss and without the faintest regret," she chuckled, her exotic accent resurfacing. Lelouch knew all too well of the rivalry between her and the 'Pudding Earl' (or so she liked to call him). Although they had attended the same university, both had parted paths due to contradicting opinions and joined different companies: she had been drafted in by the Ashford Foundation, while he had chosen the Schneizel Institute of Electronics, one of Britannia's most prized actors on the military market.

Lelouch laughed out loud - a rare occurrence for those who knew him.

"Then I shall be expecting your visit, Professor and I hope to hear from you soon. I'm afraid I'll have to cut this visit short as other appointments await me."

"Do as you please, Your Highness. This place is _your_ place, remember?"

"Always, my dear Professor. Always," he said with a smirk. Moments later, he was stepping outside with his aide de camp, his thoughts preoccupied by mathematical and financial figures he needed to analyze himself. Most of his assistants handled the paperwork in his stead, but he still demanded to be appraised of his own affairs' details and proceedings. It helped him better comprehend the situation rather than listening to second-hand, dumbed-down accounts.

He drew his black cloak closer to his body and watched as the limousine drew to a stop in front of the stairs. From the corner of his eye, he could see a group of reporters standing behind the gates and snapping pictures of him. The population was especially voracious of Imperial Household-related news and specialized magazines sold out extremely fast. Especially when the Family's most eligible bachelors were featured in a special edition for the gossip-hungry masses. And for that matter, the 88th Emperor had certainly done his homework, Lelouch groused bitterly. He had managed to make the world hang at the edge of his lips and hearken unto his very words as God himself was speaking to all insignificant mortals. An example for society, maybe, but what type of country could learn and feed off of a man as twisted as his own father? Cynical thoughts continued to plague his mind as the car pulled through the main gate. The soft smile he offered the journalists was as fake as a one billion pound note.

And they drove back to the palace, ignoring the hordes of admirers standing on the sidewalk to catch a glimpse of the infamous Black Prince, the rising star of Britannia.

The black sheep turned prodigy.

OoO

Putting Nunnally to bed was a ceremony he had never missed once in seven years. There were nurses and other ladies-in-waiting who could handle the job with equal expertise but that part of her life was the only one he jealously kept for himself. It helped him remember why he was driving himself into a world of hatred and coldness. Euphemia usually kept her half-sister company for the better part of the day but even she needed some time alone or away. Other siblings like Clovis or Schneizel dropped by, but her smile was always brightest when she recognized Lelouch's footsteps from afar.

He had already cried all the tears in his body years ago, when his mother had died before his eyes, but whenever she'd hold his hand and say that she was happy to be with him, his eyes started stinging with pain and hurting joy. Those few minutes spent at her bedside were the only moments he'd allow himself to be human once again. Not for himself, but for her.

"I trust you had a good day?" he asked gently, almost fearful that raising his voice would make her lose her desire to rest and get better. "Tell me about it."

Nunnally's head turned towards her brother's, a tiny smile gracing her pink lips. Even in her crippled state, she still managed to keep that cheerful mood of hers, a miracle Lelouch would be forever grateful for.

"Miss Lilian read me one of the books - you know, the _Knights of the Round Table - _and then we had a stroll in the gardens, as always. They cut the hydrangea, you know. The gardeners said they weren't in good health anymore and needed to be replaced. I think I smelled white roses instead but I forgot to ask." Her small fingers intertwined with Lelouch, the frailty of her body painfully apparent. He said nothing, preferring to let talk and enjoy the ability to share experiences with others. With the loss of her sight and her ability to walk, her list of possible distractions had grown despairingly short and the nurses always came up with new ways to entertain her. Whether it was listening to the radio or offering her a book written in Braille, nothing was too good to make her happy.

"Wonderful. I will inquire on my way back and I shall tell you tomorrow, is that alright?" She nodded, her hand clasping his in the silent acquiescence of a promise. "But isn't that book, the _Knights of the Round Table,_ too...adult, too violent for you? I could always bring you one of those works you like, like that-"

"No, no, no, brother," Nunnally protested, her white forehead creasing in innocent refusal, "it is alright. I do enjoy the tales of Knight Lancelot and his comrades-in-arms, and it helps me learn more about the country's history. Please..."

It was at times like this that his iron-clad heart wanted desperately to melt into a pile of goo. He had never refused her any desire, even the smallest, for fear that she become miserable. Seeing her half-naked in the hospital, her face twisted in pain and misery, had marked him forever.

"Okay, then, I will let you continue. Did Clovis come to see you?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot," she exclaimed, waving her other hand in excitation. Her smile instantly grew larger whenever one of her relative went to spend some time with her and for a fleeting second, Lelouch's heart sang with slight jealousy. At least, he thought to himself, it was for her own welfare.

And with that, Nunnally launched herself in a long narrative of her activities with 'Brother Clovis'. The ensuing discussion lasted for a solid half-hour before she was convinced to go to sleep and take some rest.

OoO

Lelouch returned to his bedroom an exhausted man, the imaginary weight on his shoulders excruciating and threatening to break his innermost resolve. It took some effort to remove his heavy overcoat, undo his pleated scarf and unbutton his shirt. Dressing up and down were both activities he preferred to do himself. After his demise at the court, his life as a pampered, protected successor had crashed to a stop, replaced by a hard struggle to stand up for himself. One of the first things he had learnt was to groom himself correctly without any help - and even to this day, as the forlorn prosperity timidly came back dose by dose, he remained adamant on this small ritual. He dropped his garments on a nearby dresser and staggered towards the bed, his sore body called forth by the appealing softness of the silken sheets.

He was about to throw himself on the mattress when a strange feeling overtook him, causing the hair at the back of his neck to stand up, as if electrified.

His vision floated a scant second and he vaguely felt as if his entire body was resonating with some chime struck far, far away. Green sparks of light swirled before his eyes, aggregating to form a human silhouette - a ghostly apparition that briefly glowed brightly before fading to inexistence.

His mind racing at the unexplainable vision, Lelouch slowly but surely turned back, a deep sense of foreboding dawning on him. It was then that a gentle breeze tickled his cheek, telling him that the room's window had, in the meantime, opened and ushered the midnight air in. His heart beating like a drum, Lelouch slowly looked up, at the darkened skies hanging beyond his room.

It was then that he noticed, within the silent shadows, the two golden eyes staring directly at him.

_To be continued._

OoO

Notes: I _know '_Nunnally' is spelled 'Nanaly'. But I don't care - we at the CG forums spent enough time changing the spellings we end up sticking to those we chose for the time being. So please bear with it, all you little nitpickers out there. You'll see other smallish discrepancies such as this one or 'Rakshata' (as opposed to the popular 'Laksharta') from time to time, but nothing big. I'll nevertheless force myself to keep true to each character's persona, as faithfully as humanly possible.

"...the rage and hatred the Black Prince could muster..." is a reference to Tom Clancy's _Executive Orders. _Cookies to those who can find it. Ain't that hard, anyway.

I know I repeat myself a lot when I describe Lelouch's martyr as an outcast. But I needed to introduce some background behind Lelouch's gradual rise as a powerful contender in the succession battle. It should nevertheless be observed that even now, he is not exactly the mascot of the court. People are still indecisive towards him and only fear motivates them to acknowledge his authority. He might be as famous as Schneizel but his chances at getting the throne are definitely lower.

As a side note, English might be my mothertongue, but it's no longer my first language. So bear with me if certain sentences might sound weird, overlong or awkward - I'm trying to sound as natural as possible, believe me.

This chapter offers more narration than actual talk, I know. But that should change shortly.

Yes, I'm still working on my other stories. But I'm taking my good golly miss molly sweet time. So quiet now. Shush.

Alrighty, end of first chapter. Lights out, see you later.


	2. Author's Note  Huge Setback

**ANNOUNCEMENT**

No, guys. I'm sorry – this ain't a new chapter but an announcement…and as in ninety-five cases out of hundred, I'm afraid mine isn't a messenger of good news.

For starters, I'd like to assure you I haven't dropped the series or put it on hold. Chapter two and three _are _in the works and were still undergoing changes a few days ago...but unfortunately I have suffered an important and untimely setback in the form of a catastrophic hardware crash – the 160Gb partition where I had stored the drafts for Ch2 and Ch3 was lost along with 60Gb worth of scanlations, fansubs, mp3, pdf files, program installers and a flock of miscellaneous things I need greatly for work and whatnot.

I tried to retrieve the lost data thanks to a file recovery program (finding a _good_ freeware wasn't easy at all) but results have been meagre so far. Considering the few things I managed to find, I'm not sure if I'll be able to locate _and _restore the missing chapters…provided they are intact in the first place. Most files I succeeded in bringing back were either corrupt or missing parts.

For now I'll try to rewrite ch2 and 3 starting with duplicates I saved less than a week ago in a different partition, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to release them, as I'm no good at hugging deadlines _and _making haste. Thankfully, next week will most likely grant me more time to spend on this – and hopefully upload chapter two on FFN.

Cheers nevertheless,

R334 (AKA Hellion3 / Soultaker7)


End file.
